


Fine By Me

by My_Dear_Watson



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Dear_Watson/pseuds/My_Dear_Watson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, that did it: all an army had to do was have one of them harm a hair on Gaby’s head, and game over, said army was dead, because Peril was going to see that none of them lived to see another day for daring to hurt her. They all had it coming, really, so Napoleon lets the Russian frolic off of the leash to deal some damage. </p><p>It was… oddly, adorably endearing… the noises of bones breaking and people screaming aside, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine By Me

The team had always planned for these outcomes, but they never really expected them. Napoleon didn't, anyway. 

On a mission-gone-wrong, Gaby takes a bullet to the shoulder. He and Illya are stunned for a bit because it was always _them_ who were supposed to get hit if it ever came to that, never her. Gaby hates the fact that they always kept her away from the action so she could achieve more on the subterfuge end. She and punches them each in the chest whenever they insist that no, _they_ were going to take out the enemies and she should stay put and out of sight and shoot someone _only if it necessary._

There’s brief, panicked confusion immediately after, and Napoleon’s staring at Gaby’s arm while she’s hissing in pain but promising that she’s okay. She insists that all she needs is a bandage ‘and a few shots of that tequila.’

Napoleon doesn’t realize Peril hasn’t heard her comment until he realizes the man’s previous hiding spot was vacant, and there’s a semi-unfortunately familiar scream of absolute anguish from one of the THRUSH flunkies.

Well, Napoleon realized, that did it. All an army had to do was have one of them harm a hair on Gaby’s head and game over, said army was dead because Peril was going to see that none of them lived to see another day for daring to hurt her. They all had it coming, really, so he lets the Russian go off on the leash. 

It was… oddly, adorably endearing… the noises of bones breaking and people screaming aside, of course.

* * *

 

Next up in the 'get harmed’ department was Napoleon himself. They had been walking along a street trying to sell their latest cover- he was an art dealer with a visiting brother from Russia and Gaby was his no-nonsense, actual-brains-of-the-operation assistant.

Apparently they had done something that didn’t sit right with their target, because one second Napoleon had been walking up to check out an art gallery storefront with Gaby at his side when there was a sudden sharp, precise pain in his neck and upon a quick investigation, he found out there was a dart in it. And whatever had been put in it was starting to make him go loopy already. Moments later, he saw the shooter come out of hiding from a nearby corner and he was quite insulted that he had been taken down by such an amateur. In his haze, he couldn't stop the impressed-yet-mocking gigglesnort that he did when he saw Peril body tackle the shooter.

And then the ground came up at him. 

He wakes up and he’s in his and Peril’s hotel room, sprawled on the bed. His head is elevated slightly and it takes him a moment to realize it’s because Gaby has his head in her lap. He glances up at her and then a moment later he’s gawking because she smacks him to ensure he’s fully awake. That was how her relationship worked with Peril, _not him_ , and he’s not sure whether to be insulted or happy she sees him as a close enough friend that he gets that treatment now. 

He realizes Peril’s not in his line of sight and with a quick look around he finds him on the couch a few paces away, silent. More importantly, he had that same look that he had after he had lost his father’s watch. Napoleon wasn’t sure how to take that.

Peril scoots closer when Napoleon’s pretty sure the other agent must think he or Gaby can’t see him do so. He makes some dumb joke about the shooter that he barely even remembers the moment after he says it, and Peril silences him with a quick, “he’s dead” and that’s that.

* * *

 

He isn’t sure when things shift after that, but the next time he or Gaby get hurt, they react stronger than they ever did before. Someone tries to stab Gaby, and Napoleon punches out the bastard before Illya can even get to him. Napoleon gets tackled off of a high dock and into water whose pressure should’ve killed him, and two weeks later, Gaby just casually rigs the truck that the ones who forced him off the bridge stole to go roll backward when it was put in drive, and minutes after, the bastards go off a cliff they were parked uphill from. Napoleon and Peril are both very much torn on whether to be impressed or terrified after that.

But it is always him or Gaby getting hurt. Peril, as per usual, is too fast, too strong or too tall for much harm to come to him. He takes a stray punch or kick every so often, but nothing goes particularly wrong. When they get hurt, he’s always the one hovering constantly after the fact.  The other unharmed party was around, but only slightly less hover-y. 

Of course, things were bound to switch up someday.

It comes when a small cell of THRUSH agents  attack. They have some weird, mini battering ram and since Illya was in the wrong place, wrong time, Peril takes a hit from it right in the chest and goes flying back meters. He crumples down, and Napoleon’s brain can’t escape the assumption that _Illya_ ’s  _dead_. He’s gone, things are very, very bad. He’s dimly aware that Gaby’s yelling something and there’s a small explosion that takes the ram out, and he does some quick work with his gun 'til there’s one enemy left and Gaby throws one of her pumps at the bastard. It hits him square in the face and he goes down like a ton of bricks (What did Waverly even have put into those things?!). They’re already running over to Illya before Napoleon even realizes they were moving. He lets out a nervous laugh that he’d forever deny making when he realizes that Illya’s breathing, and somehow, someway the gigantic bastard survived something that by rights should’ve killed even him. He’s still out like a light, though, so he hoists the Russian over one shoulder with great difficulty and lets Gaby lead him the Hell out of there. She has to contort oddly every so often so she can reach Illya and check on him or stroke his hair reassuringly, even if she’s aware it’s not going to do much good then.

* * *

 

Illya wakes and the upper half of his body is cradled in Gaby’s lap. She’s talking to him quietly and stroking his hair and she laughs when he looks genuinely confused. He looks down, and Napoleon’s at the foot of the bed, leaning against the wall, dozing. Gaby nudges the brunette with her foot and he wakes up immediately and the smile Illya gets could light up a small country. Illya goes to speak, but Gaby does the whole smacking awake thing and he looks more like an upset puppy than an insulted man when he looks back at her.

“You’re supposed to duck or jump away, you idiot…” Napoleon forces out, because he’s finally realizing how much Illya means to him after everything they’ve been through, but he’d be damned if he’d admit it... too loudly to too many people, anyway.

“I’ll consider it for next time,” Illya deadpans.

“Don’t you dare!” Gaby counters, and goes to smack him on the shoulder, but he grabs her hand before she can make contact. There’s a moment of silence and nothing happens, but he eventually switches up how he’s holding her hand so it’s laying on his shoulder and his hand is covering hers.

Napoleon hides a smile and is tempted to make some comment about being a proud parent when Illya leans back to get physically closer to her as well.

Gaby makes no move to move, either. She strokes his hair again, then gently, “Don’t go and scare us like that again.”

“I’ll consider that, too…” he counters.

Napoleon takes his turn to smack the man’s thigh. “We mean it, you know. It’s just the three of us these days. Of course there’s Waverly too, but he’s never in on everything as much as we are. One of us goes, it throws off the other two. Can’t have that, can we?”

“I suppose not,” Illya replies, but even he seems to be as torn as Napoleon did with the delivery. “But that goes double for both of you.”

“Then you have a deal,” Napoleon counters, and Gaby hummed in agreement. “Now, both of you scoot over. I haven’t slept in days since I’ve had to look after you two and make sure we weren’t made, and I need to sleep.” If it was lack of sleep over possibly losing the man who he’d begrudgingly admit was his best friend, well, so be it, but once again, they didn’t need to know. What he had just said would’ve been sufficient enough. He barely waited for the two to do as asked before flopping down face-first between the wall and their bodies and was quite impressed at how well they all seemed to fit. It was oddly comfortable, and then when Gaby reaches over to give his own head a scratch it was damn near heavenly.

They were a tiny, rag-tag bunch of misfits together, but he wouldn’t have it anyway, and he was pretty sure the others felt the same way.


End file.
